


Sticky Bomb

by rauqthetommo



Series: Crossfire [12]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aftermath, Aftermath of Car Accident, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Eddie Kaspbrak, Canon Divergence - No Pennywise, Caring Richie Tozier, Concerned Bill Denbrough, Death Threats, Discussions of violence, Eddie Kaspbrak is Bad at Feelings, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hitman AU, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mentions of Sex, OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Sensitive Richie Tozier, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soft Richie Tozier, Threats of Violence, mentions of death/murder, mentions of explosions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rauqthetommo/pseuds/rauqthetommo
Summary: Following the events of Sniper Rifle:Richie and Eddie deal with the aftermath of the Allen Job.An excerpt from this work:“This is really fucking bad, Richie.” Bill paced around his living room, raking his hand through his hair.“I know,” Richie groaned, leaning his head back against the couch.He’d brought Eddie home immediately after they’d left Stanley’s, making sure he went right to bed before driving over to Bill’s. He wanted to tell him straight away what had happened.“Do yuh-you have a f-f-fucking death wish, Richie?”“No,”“Then wuh-why do you keep doing shit like this!” Bill demanded.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Crossfire [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658356
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Sticky Bomb

“This is really fucking bad, Richie.” Bill paced around his living room, raking his hand through his hair.

“I know,” Richie groaned, leaning his head back against the couch.

He’d brought Eddie home immediately after they’d left Stanley’s, making sure he went right to bed before driving over to Bill’s. He wanted to tell him straight away what had happened.

“Do yuh-you have a f-f-fucking death wish, Richie?”

“No,”

“Then wuh-why do you keep doing shit like this!” Bill demanded. “This was an easy fucking j-j-job, Richie!”

“Like fuck it was!” Richie snapped. “Eddie was nearly killed!”

“It was one fucking guh-guy, Richie—“

“He had backup!”

“You didn’t need t-to kill the backup! J-just Allen! And you c-c-couldn’t even manage that!” Bill dropped to his knees in front of the couch, gripping Richie’s thighs with his hands. “Damien Hayes is going to fucking k-k-kill you, Richie. You and Eh-eh-eddie.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Richie shook his head.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Bill demanded.

“I just—“

“This isn’t a goddamn game, Rich. Huh-how could you l-let this happen? I wanted you on that ruh-roof for backup, Richie.” He shoved Richie’s shoulder. “Where the fuck were you?”

“I’m not a sniper, Bill! I couldn’t do jack-fucking-shit from up there! Eddie needed help! The fucking corvette was out of control, ramming him all over the fucking road! I went down to the street to help, but by the time I got there it was too late.”

“I’m dropping Eddie—“ Bill stood up, shaking his head.

“No,”

“—he has done n-n-nothing but cause us trouble, Richie—“

“Bill, you can’t.” Richie stood too. “He needs us! He trusts us!”

“He’s going to get you killed, Richie!” Bill shouted. “No, w-we’re washing our hands of him. Done.”

“Then I’ll leave too,” Richie stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me?” Bill scoffed.

“If you drop Eddie, then I’m gone too.”

“Richie—“

“You can’t drop him, Bill, please. I—“ Richie’s voice was thick when he spoke, trying desperately to keep from crying. “I lo—“ He shook his head, meeting Bill’s eyes. “Bill, please.”

“Richie—“

“Please, Bill. Do me this one solid. Give us another chance. We can talk to Damien. I’ll do anything he wants. He won’t even have to pay me for it.”

Bill studied Richie, frowning. He opened his mouth to speak, slamming it shut again when his phone started ringing. Bill sighed heavily, fishing his phone out of his pocket and pressing it to his ear. “This is Bill Denbrough.” Bill nodded, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Yes,” He nodded again. “Yes.” He frowned. “Mikey, are you sh-sh-sure?”

“What?” Richie asked softly.

Bill reached out and placed his hand flat against Richie’s stomach, nodding along to whatever Mike was saying. “Yes, I’ll tell him. Ok. You t-t-too. Bye.”

“What’s wrong, Bill?” Richie wrapped his hand around Bill’s wrist.

“Paul Allen is dead.” Bill looked up to meet Richie’s eyes, frowning.

Richie blinked. “What?”

“He’s d-d-dead.” Bill patted Richie’s stomach once before pulling his hand away and walking into his kitchen. “His car blew up outside of a toll b-b-booth upstate.” Bill pulled a glass from his cabinet and poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey.

“Jesus,” Richie leaned against the counter, watching Bill down his drink before pouring another one.

“You killed him,” Bill slammed his second drink and poured a third.

“No, I—“

“Richie, shut up.” Bill snapped at him, polishing off his whiskey and setting the glass down on the counter. “You killed Paul Allen. You and Eh-eh-eddie.”

“Bill—“

Bill grabbed Richie’s shoulders and shook him lightly. “Richie. You killed him. Damien Hayes nuh-needs to believe th-that, Richie. He will _kill_ you, both of you, otherwise. Do you uh-uh-understand me?” When Richie didn’t answer, Bill shook him again. “Richie. Do you understand me?”

Richie nodded slowly, turning to meet Bill’s wide, blue eyes. “Yes, Bill. I understand.”

***

Eddie tried to sleep when Richie dropped him off at home, he really did. Stanley had told him to rest and drink lots of water, so Eddie had chugged two bottles of water and went to lie down, but he couldn’t sleep. Stan had wrapped his chest and arms with bandages to stop him from fucking with his stitches, so he wasn’t able to get comfortable in bed. The stitches in his face hurt too, pressing into his skin against his pillow and making it almost impossible to actually fall asleep. He’d given up after a while, and opted instead to sit on his couch and watch some bad tv, taking some pain killers and sipping from a bottle of water while he did.

_Inhaler._

_I don’t need it._

_You’re hurt, Eddie, your inhaler will help you feel better._

_My lungs aren’t hurt._

_You can never be too careful._

“I don’t need it.” Eddie coughed out into the room, pulling his legs up onto the couch and resting his chin on his knees.

His head was killing him, a dull throbbing right behind his eyes, so he shut them, trying to steady his ragged breathing as he listened to some fucking sitcom play on the tv.

 _Inhaler_.

_No._

_What if you have a concussion?_

_How would my inhaler help with a concussion?_

He sighed and pressed the cool plastic of his water bottle to his cheek, directly over the fading bruise on the right side of his face.

_What if you have a concussion? You can’t go to sleep if you have one. You could slip into a coma and die._

_I don’t have a concussion. Stanley said so._

_He isn’t a doctor._

_Neither are you._

A soft knock on the door cut off his brain’s ranting, so he muted the television and reluctantly got up to answer it. He stood on his toes to look through the peephole, expecting to see his landlord or Mr. Lee, but it was Richie, standing in the hall and wringing his hands together while he waited.

Eddie unlocked the door and stepped back to pull it open, wincing when a sharp pain shot up his side. “Are you alright?” Richie stepped into the apartment and shut the door, placing his hands on Eddie’s arms.

“I’m fine,” Eddie waved him off. “I’m just really fucking sore.” He smiled lightly up at Richie. “How’d it go with Bill? Is he pissed?”

“He was,” Richie tossed his backpack onto the floor by Eddie’s shoe mat. “But then something happened.” He glanced back at Eddie, bringing his hand up to cup his cheek. “God, those stitches are gnarly.” He frowned, taking Eddie’s chin in his hand and tipping his face towards the light.

“What happened at Bill’s?” Eddie prompted, too annoyed from his all-over pain to be patient.

“Mikey called him.” Richie sighed and let go of Eddie’s face. “Paul Allen is dead.”

Eddie blinked. He hadn’t expected that. “How?”

“His car blew up.” Richie scratched his hand through his hair. “As far as I know, no one is taking credit for the kill.” Richie cleared his throat. “So, Bill wants us to.”

Eddie knit his eyebrows together, shaking his head. “I don’t understand?” His forehead hurt, the stitches above his left eyebrow pulling uncomfortably as he scrunched his face up.

“If Damien Hayes finds out we fucked this job up, he’ll kill us. Both of us. I’m already on his bad side, and this certainly won’t help his opinion of me.” Richie leaned back against the arm of Eddie’s sofa.

“This is good, then.” Eddie decided. “We can keep living, keep collecting payment, keep doing jobs for Damien, and Paul Allen is dead.” Eddie shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “I see this as an absolute win.”

“I don’t know, Eddie.” Richie shook his head.

“What are you bugging about, honey boy?” Eddie placed his hands on Richie’s arms, squeezing lightly. “Paul Allen is dead.”

“But we’re not the ones that killed him.” Richie insisted.

“But we’re the ones getting credit for it!” Eddie blinked at Richie, willing him to understand. This was good. Sure, they’d fucked up the job, but Damien didn’t know that. And he didn’t need to. Allen was dead. And that was all Damien cared about.

“I just don’t know, Eds.” Richie shook his head again.

“What’s wrong?”

“We didn’t kill him!” Richie pressed.

“Oh my god, still?” Eddie groaned.

“It’s been three seconds!” Richie defended himself.

“Look, Rich, don’t take this the wrong way, but if I put your dick in my mouth, will you shut up about this?”

Richie laughed softly, even though Eddie hadn’t been joking. “I’m just worried about what might happen if Damien ever finds out that we lied.”

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that.” Richie shook his head and sighed.

“Rich, listen.” Eddie stepped forward and placed his hands on Richie’s arms. “Whatever power you believe in just did us a huge solid. You’re right. Damien Hayes would have killed us if he found out we let Paul Allen get away. But we don’t have to worry about that anymore. Everything will be fine.”

Richie kept his eyes on the muted tv for a second longer, still frowning. “I’m Jewish,” He said quietly, turning back to face Eddie.

“What?” Eddie cocked his head.

“You said ‘whatever power I believe in.’ I’m Jewish.”

“Shalom,”

Richie snorted at that, pulling Eddie into a hug and burying his face in Eddie’s hair. “Stanley told you to get some rest,” He mumbled.

“I tried,” Eddie sighed into Richie’s chest. “I’m in a lot of pain, though.”

“What hurts?” Richie ran his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he spoke, fingers catching on the bandages under his sleeping shirt.

“Everything,” Eddie pressed deeper into Richie’s chest, wrapping his arms around him as he leaned against the arm of the couch.

“How can I help?” Richie asked, planting a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head before dropping his chin to rest in Eddie’s hair.

“Stay,”

***

Richie had been sitting on Eddie’s couch for over 2 hours when Bill called. Eddie groaned softly at the sound of the phone ringing, shifting where he was pressed to Richie’s side. “It’s Bill,” Richie mumbled softly, pushing Eddie’s hair back from his face.

“Tell him to fuck off,” Eddie said, rubbing his cheek against Richie’s ribs through his t-shirt.

“What’s up, Big Bill?” Richie whispered into the phone, turning his face away in an attempt not disturb Eddie too much.

“Are you at home?” Bill asked.

“No, I’m with Eddie.”

“Hi, Bill.” Eddie murmured.

“Eddie says ‘hi,’” Richie continued stroking his hand through Eddie’s hair as he spoke.

“Hi, Eh-eddie.” Bill said softly. “I need to talk to the t-t-two of you. Can you meet me at Hog’s?”

“When?” Richie frowned, dragging his fingertips over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Preferably now.” Bill sounded like he was walking, wind blowing against the speaker of the phone as he continued to talk.

Richie pulled back to look at Eddie’s face. “You up for an adventure, sweetheart?”

***

Eddie didn’t really want to go out. He was perfectly comfortable watching tv on the couch with Richie for the rest of the night. He’d planned on asking Richie for a blowjob and then falling asleep in his arms later that night, but apparently the universe had other plans.

So now, instead of rolling around with Richie on top of him in his bed, he was sitting across from Richie at their usual table at Hog’s, waiting for Bill to finish the phone call that had interrupted their conversation.

Richie smiled over at him, hooking their ankles together under the table as he sipped his coffee.

_He’s touching you._

_It’s fine._

_Inhaler._

_I don’t need it._

“Ok,” Bill nodded, returning to the table with his phone still pressed to the side of his face. “Yes, I’ll t-tell them. Alright. Bye, M-mikey.” Bill slid back into his seat and hung up, placing his phone screen-down on the table. “Sorry about th-that. What were we talking about?”

“You asked about the accident.” Richie supplied.

“Right, of course.” Bill nodded and turned to Eddie, laying his hand on Eddie’s wrist as he spoke. “Are you ok?”

Eddie pulled his hand away and dropped it into his lap, trying to ignore his brain as it flooded with _he touched you._ “I’m fine,” He said, clearing his throat.

_Inhaler._

“Stanley patched me up. Good as new.” He tried to smile reassuringly.

“How did you cruh-crash?” Bill kept his eyes locked on Eddie.

“The corvette was on me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to outrun him, so I did the only thing I could think of.” He shrugged, wincing when the stitches in his chest pulled at the movement. “I shifted into park and the car flipped.”

“You crashed on purpose?” Richie asked, frowning. “Eddie, you could have died.” Richie’s voice was thick.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you _could have_ _._ ” Richie insisted, leaning forward in his chair. “Eddie, you can’t do shit like that.”

“Rich—“

“I’m serious, Eddie.” Richie reached his hands out and looked at Eddie pointedly, so Eddie sighed and laced their fingers together overtop of the table. “Eddie, I was there if you needed help—“

“But you weren’t helping.”

“You didn’t give me any time, Eds!” Richie shook his head.

“I’m not blaming you, Richie.” Eddie sighed. Richie was annoying him with his concern. Everything worked out fine, didn’t it? What was the big fucking deal? “I handled it. I survived. Everything is fine.”

_Inhaler._

_No._

“Eddie, I care about you so much.” A few tears tracked their way down Richie’s flushed cheeks. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. You can’t do shit like that. Please.”

“Richie—“

“Promise me you won’t do anything that reckless again.” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hands.

Eddie was suddenly very aware that Bill was there. Sitting, watching them talk. His lungs felt so heavy, it was like they were full of liquid cement. He slipped his hands out of Richie’s and pulled his aspirator out of his pocket, spraying it into his mouth and inhaling deeply. Richie kept his hands open for Eddie to retake them, but he didn’t. He suddenly felt like Richie was smothering him. He was too close, too personal, too involved.

_This is bad._

_I’m fine._

“Eddie,” Richie said. “Promise me you won’t do anything that reckless again.”

_Lie._

“I won’t, Rich.” Eddie nodded without meeting Richie’s eyes. He coughed once into the cool night air. “I won’t.”

Richie seemed relieved at that, sitting back in his chair and wiping his face with the back of his hand. Bill patted his shoulder lightly before speaking again. “Like I t-told Richie,” He glanced over and met Eddie’s eyes. “It’s very important that you get your story straight about w-what happened with Allen.”

“I tossed C4 on his car.” Eddie shrugged.

“Good,” Bill nodded and sipped his coffee. “Stick to th-that.”

“We will,” Richie said softly.

Eddie bristled. He didn’t like Richie speaking for him. “Was there something else?” He asked Bill, tucking his legs under his chair when Richie tried to hook their ankles together again.

Bill nodded, twisting around to pull a folder out of his bag. “Brendan Meyer is throwing a party i-in two weeks.” He slid the folder to Richie. “It’s a big party, and a luh-lot of important people are g-going to be there.” Eddie watched as Richie read over the file, eyebrows pulled together.

_Inhaler._

Eddie sighed and dug his aspirator out of his pocket, spraying it down his throat as Bill kept talking. “Damien Hayes would like you two to b-b-be there.”

“Why?” Eddie coughed once, his chest still not quite clear.

“He wants you to rub elbows with s-some other hitmen.” Bill took a sip of his coffee as Richie passed the folder to Eddie. “And he wants you to kuh-kill Brendan Meyer.”

Eddie flipped open the folder to examine the file. Brendan Meyer had, according to his file, been Damien Hayes’s second in command for about 5 years, but had just recently begun to work behind his back, attempting to build his own empire in LA. “He wants us to kill him at his own party?” Eddie asked.

“It’s a good cover,” Richie said. “There’ll be so much going on, it’s pretty likely that no one will notice if he goes missing.”

“Exactly.” Bill nodded. “There will be a lot of peh-people at Brendan’s estate on the night of the p-party. Myself included.” Bill ran his hand through his hair. “Rich, do you think you’d be able to. . .” Bill continued to speak to Richie as Eddie examined the file.

His chest was still heaving, so he took another pull off of his aspirator. This party seemed like a big deal, and judging by the picture of Brendan Meyer’s estate, it wasn’t going to be some small get together. The thought of going to such a big party with so many people made Eddie’s anxiety sky rocket, flushing his cheeks dark red as he began to overthink.

“Right, Eds?” Richie asked, tapping Eddie’s ankle with his foot.

“Sure, yeah.” Eddie mumbled, eyes locked on the table in front of him.

_He’s being annoying._

Richie kept talking, his voice a low droning in Eddie’s ears. His head hurt again, his eyes vibrating in their sockets as he struggled to cut out Richie’s speaking. “What are you talking about? Why are you talking? Shut up.” Eddie snapped, interrupting whatever Richie and Bill had been saying.

His headache was getting worse, a sharp throbbing at the corners of his skull, but he forced his eyes open to look at Bill and Richie. They were both just staring at him, clearly surprised by his sudden outburst. Richie was frowning and Bill was looking at him with wide eyes, his expression unreadable. “Is everything ok, Eddie?” Richie leaned forward with his hand outstretched, probably meaning to hold Eddie’s hand, but Eddie tossed the mark folder down onto the table and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t want to fucking be here,” Eddie shrugged. “I’m exhausted. It’s 2 AM.”

Bill nodded slowly and reached over the rest his hand on Richie’s arm. “Eddie’s right, Rich. It is getting l-l-late. Why don’t you take Eddie home and we c-can—“

“I can get myself home,” Eddie stood up so quickly that his chair nearly toppled over.

_Inhaler._

_No._

“Eds—“ Richie was still frowning.

“Seriously, Richie, I’m fine. Jesus.” Eddie waited for either of them to speak, staring at the _24 HOURS_ sign of Hog’s reflecting off the side of a car parked on the street. “I’ll see you later.” He mumbled after a second of silence, turning on his heel and stalking down the street with his rape whistle clenched between his teeth.

_Richie is smothering you he’s all over you you’re too close to him._

_Everything is fine._

_Inhaler._

_No._

“Eddie!” Richie jogged up beside him as he walked down the sidewalk. “Eddie, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“I’m fine, Richie, I’m just tired.” Eddie lied, coughing out into the dark.

_Inhaler._

_Get fucked._

“Are you feeling alright?” Richie asked, pressing his hand to Eddie’s forehead.

“Fucking hell, Rich.” Eddie jerked away and stopped walking, turning to face Richie. “Take a fucking hint, man.”

Richie looked hurt, wringing his hands on the sidewalk as he stared at Eddie. “Eddie, did I make you upset? Or uncomfortable in some way? I didn’t mean to, if I did—“

“Richie.” Eddie cut him off.

_Tell him to fuck off. Tell him you never want to see him again._

_Shut up._

He debated what to say. That stupid voice was kind of right, as much as he hated to admit it. Richie was getting too close to him. He didn’t like how comfortable they were getting with one another. Letting Richie fuck him was one thing, but if Richie started to get the idea that there was something more here, then they’d have some problems. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, exhaling heavily.

_Tell him to fuck off._

_Stop._

Richie looked like he was going to cry, cheeks flushed, wide brown eyes wet behind the magnified lenses of his glasses. Eddie’s heart hurt for a second. He didn’t want to upset Richie, he liked him. A lot. He liked spending time with him and he was grateful to have him around.

“Richie, I’m sorry.” He decided. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Or Bill. I’m just—“ He shook his head, searching for the right words. “This is all new to me. I’ve never had people around that care about me. I guess I just don’t really know how to treat you.”

Richie took a shaky breath and opened his arms, pulling Eddie into a tight hug. “We care about you,” Richie mumbled into his hair.

“I know,” Eddie nodded, pushing back his brain’s nagging shouts of _he’s touching you._

Richie pulled back and met Eddie’s eyes, cupping his face in his hands and stroking his thumb over the yellowing bruise on Eddie’s cheekbone. “Can I kiss you?”

_No._

Eddie nodded and leaned up, letting Richie press their lips together softly. The kiss was gentle, closed mouthed and quick, but when they pulled away, Richie continued to hold him, hands resting on Eddie’s hips. “I’m hungry,” Eddie said quietly.

“Let’s go get some food, then.” Richie reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind Eddie’s ear. “What do you want?”

Eddie thought for a second, leaning into Richie’s touch where he held his head, before looking up to meet his eyes. “You,”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me anywhere! My handle for everything is @rauqthetommo! Feel free to ask me questions at all on my tumblr!


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